


So He Runs

by AraricBlue



Category: Original Work
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Magic, Runaway Royalty, Unknown Identity, medieval era, prince in disguise, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 04:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8356768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AraricBlue/pseuds/AraricBlue
Summary: "Father, I'm sorry, but I cannot obey you on this. I will never marry her," I say. I can't really believe I'm defying the king; it all feels like a dream."Oh, believe me, son, if it's the last thing I do, I will make you marry her, whether you want to or not!" is the furious, yet firm response.I run from his presence. He was my father. I was the prince. That ends tonight.Tonight, I run.----His father wants him to marry a noblewoman, daughter of a family who is second only to the monarchy. He believes in true love and wishes to achieve it. He will never bow to his father's whims.So he runs.He strikes a deal with a sorcerer to disguise him as a hideous man and is taken in as a servant to a high ranking family. And, somehow, the daughter of the household falls in love with him. But problems emerge. His deal comes back to haunt him.But this time, he will fight for her. This time, he will stand strong.So he runs, charging towards danger.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fic on AO3, so please bear with me. Hope you enjoy!

Someone knocks on the door. I look up. "Come in!" I call, wondering who it could be. I haven't rang the bell to summon anyone.  


Martha enters. Even after a year of being in my service, she is still a wreck in my presence. "P-prince Jonathan, sir," she stumbles over her words. At least she's not falling at my feet as she did when she first met me. "King Abelard requests your presence at the throne room." She curtsies, then holds the double doors open for me.

I sigh, putting down my book, _Through The Eyes Of  A Plant_ , and sauntering out of my chambers. Martha scurries after, closing the doors. We make our way to the throne room, passing through the halls. I smile as I see the tapestry of me squatting beside the first tree that I planted. When I pursue my passion for botany, that is the only time I am allowed to get dirty, which is why I like it so much. That precious moment has been frozen on weft yarn, to be forever admired. The mother I can barely remember stands beside me in the tapestry, smiling.

I cannot pause for long, however. I have duties to attend to. We finally arrive at our destination. The guards at the door bow to me, then open the huge double doors. I step into the throne room.

King Abelard sits on his majestic throne, watching me imperiously. My lesser throne is next to his. I walk to it. To the eye of any commoner, this throne room would be beyond any imagination, and yet, to me, it has been my playground since I was young and my father used to dandle me on his knee. Those days are past now. 

King Abelard, without turning to look at me, says, "I have something of great importance to discuss with you."  


"Yes, Father," I deadpan.

"You are aware that the war between Iriané and Beliras has been getting steadily worse," King Abelard states.

"Yes, Father."

"I have contacted the monarchy of Beliras and we have come to an agreement. Their royal family has no daughters, unfortunately, therefore we have formed a contract with a family that almost rose to the throne."  


"Father, what do you mean?" I ask.

"The strongest peace treaty that can be formed is always sealed with marriage, my son."  


I gasp as I understand his meaning. "Father, no! You know I've always wanted to find love and marry the girl I desire."

King Abelard sighs. "Son, it's time for you to let go of your selfish desires and serve the country as its prince. I have granted you leave to pursue your passion for botany; now, do as I say. This is of the utmost value to Iriané, son. You must not ruin it with your foolish notions and dreams. Who knows, you may fall in love with this girl."

"Or maybe she'll be a stuck-up snob," I mutter under my breath. The king finally turns to look sternly at me.

"Don't say that about your fiancée, Jonathan. I've heard she's a very nice girl," he says.

I've just had about enough of this conversation.

"Father, I'm sorry, but I cannot obey you on this. I will never marry her," I say. I can't really believe I'm defying the king; it all feels like a dream.

"Oh, believe me, son, if it's the last thing I do, I will make you marry her, whether you want to or not!" is the furious, yet firm response.

I run from his presence. He was my father. I was the prince. That ends tonight.

Tonight, I run.

\----

I sneak out at dusk, when the moon is peeking shyly through the clouds. All day, I have been sitting in my room, not allowing anyone entry. King Abelard had not come to visit; he must have thought I was sulking and would come out eventually.

Little did he know I was planning my escape.

Earlier, after I had unceremoniously ran from the king, I had taken aside my personal bodyguard and loyal friend, Stefanus, and informed him of my plan, asking for his help. He had been horrified, claiming that "the crown prince must not run away! Who will rule the country? What other offspring does the king have? He will miss you."

That struck something deep inside of me. I love my father, and he loves me, but this marriage is too much. We will never reach a mutual agreement. My decision might be impulsive and selfish, but I have to do this. Love is a treasure to be cherished,  the seed of what my mother embedded in me all those years ago. All I remember of her are gentle hands, a kind smile, and a musical laugh, but I do know she loved me. My father says so, and I can see the love behind the eyes of the phantom mother that lives on in my memories.

That was what I had said to Stefanus, that love cannot be forced and comes unexpectedly like the flow of a tide, wonderful as the first bite of a scrumptious dish. I told him I want to shower the same love my mother had had for me upon my wife. He finally agreed with me, good friend that he is. Without his help, I would have been caught long before I reached the castle entrance.

Now, I am dressed in the guard's uniform that Stefanus gave me, the visor down over my eyes as I stalk through the halls. I curtly nod to the real guards as I pass by and receive nods in return. After what felt like an eternity, I finally reach my destination and step out into the moonlit night.

Thousands of sentries patrol the walls. I am amazed at the sheer number of guards, even though every time I look out my window in my chambers, I am greeted with this sight. Never before have I appreciated the courage of a thief as I do now. Although I have not committed any wrong against the law except disobeying the king, I feel wrong, as if I do not belong here. _A_ _ridiculous_ _notion_ , I tell myself. _I was born and raised in this castle. Where else would I belong?_

I walk forward, attempting to calm my nerves, my heart racing. No one pays attention to me as I duck into the stable. There, I am greeted with the sight of my stallion, Amihitlao. I stroke his neck as he nuzzles into my hand.

"I'm going to miss you, boy," I whisper into his ear. I wish I can take him, but I would be caught and questioned as to why I am riding Prince Jonathan's horse. I settle for another horse instead, a copper mare. The plaque on her stable door reads _Amber_. 

After I tack her up, I lead her out of the stable. I mount her and ride towards the portculis, which serves as both an entry and an exit to our castle. The guards there stop me. "Who are you and what business do you have?" one, a bearded man with shaggy hair, asks me.

I steel myself. Stefanus and I have already agreed on what I should say. "I am Jonathan, Sir Stefanus's ward. My master has sent me out on an errand to deliver a message to Beliras regarding Prince Jonathan's marriage."

The man turns to his companion. "I never heard of a Jonathan under Sir Stefanus's care before," he muses.

I lift my head. "You may check the archives, Sir. My records are in there."

The man gives me an approving nod. "You have a good name, lad. It is an honour to share a name with the prince. You must carry that name well. Be on your way, and may God watch over you. Raise the portculis! Lower the drawbridge!" The last part is shouted to the men above.

The portculis groans, complaining as it is raised. The drawbridge falls over the moat with a clang. I salute the guards, then ride out into the night.

I don't look back.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on Wattpad. You can go talk to me there :)  
> Leave kudos if you enjoyed! Feedback is very much welcome. Let me know what you think.


End file.
